


Maybe You Should Just Accept the Loss

by Muir_Wolf



Category: Big Bang Theory
Genre: Consent Issues, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-19
Updated: 2010-11-19
Packaged: 2017-10-13 06:52:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/134241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muir_Wolf/pseuds/Muir_Wolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Evil!Wil/Sheldon.  In their eternal struggle, Wil sure knows how to score.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe You Should Just Accept the Loss

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this ages upon ages ago, just cross-posting.

Sheldon flips through the mail in his hands casually as Penny prattles on about Leonard and relationships. He pauses halfway up a step when he sees the scrawled handwriting on an envelope addressed to him.

More importantly, however, is that in the upper left hand corner of the envelope, _Wil Wheaton_ is written with a flourish, as well as an entire return address.

With barely a glance at Penny he shoves the rest of his mail at her, and completely ignoring her protests he commits a cardinal sin by tearing open the envelope. Inside is a single picture, and with an unusual sense of dread he pulls it slowly out.

It’s a close-up.

Of him.

In the Wonder Woman outfit.

He flips it over, trying to force down the snarl, and on the back of the photograph, the same handwriting has scrawled _Nice Legs_.

“Penny,” he says, voice tight, “Penny, I need you to take me somewhere right now.”

She’s gotten a look at the photograph, and has a sympathetic wince on her face. She just now caught the _Nice Legs,_ however—he can tell by the way her eyes have widened and the way she hasn’t automatically refused his demand.

“Sheldon…” she says, snatching the photograph away from his hands. “There’s a heart on the back.”

He closes his eyes. Yes, he’d noticed that.

 _Nice Legs, ♥_

“I’m going to kill him,” he says easily, and when he opens his eyes she’s staring at him.

“Are you okay?” she asks, almost hesitant. “Who sent you this?”

“ _Wheaton,_ ” he says, the name more of a curse on his lips than anything else. “He wrote his return address,” he says, showing her the envelope. “He’s taunting me. I believe this constitutes a dare, Penny?”

She looks at the address, noting how it’s only about half an hour away. She scrunches her face up a little, which he assumes to be her over-exaggerated thinking, and then she sighs gustily.

“I’m going to regret this,” she says. She starts down the stairs with a spring in her step, however. “I’m not going in, though, I’m going to wait in the car!” she calls back.

Sheldon, finally turning to follow her, raises an eyebrow. “I would hope so,” he says.

 

./.

 

Sheldon raps on the door with much more force than necessary. Then he rings the doorbell, practically leaning on it. “Wheaton!” he yells at the closed door.

The second time he knocks, Penny unrolls the car window to see just how loud the knocking is, because from his actions alone it looks like he’s trying to break the door down. The doorbell crashes through the house. “ _WHEATON,_ ” he snarls, and Penny winces.

Halfway through his third knock, Wil opens the door, leaning against it casually as Sheldon is completely taken off balance. His hand rises as if to finish the knock, and then with an odd twitch he drops it and steps closer.

“I received your letter,” he says. “Or more appropriately, your _taunt._ ”

“Taunt?” Wil asks, smirking. “I rather hoped you’d take it a compliment.” Sheldon narrows his eyes and Wil grins. “Why don’t you come in,” he offers.

Still staring suspiciously at him, Sheldon enters the house. Wil shuts the door behind him and then flips the lock. Almost immediately, Sheldon turns towards the noise, and Wil laughs.

“A bit skittish, aren’t you?” he asks. He walks closer to Sheldon, his voice dropping a notch. “But then, I suppose you have reason to be.”

Sheldon doesn’t move, despite how very close he’s gotten. “What was the purpose of that photograph?” he asks.

Wil tilts his head just slightly to the side. “Maybe it was an invitation,” he says.

“An invitation?” Sheldon scoffs, and Wil languidly lets his eyes trail down Sheldon’s body.

“You’re here,” he says. “It looks like you accepted.”

“I’m _here_ because you…because I…”

“Go on, please,” Wil winks. “It’s fascinating, really.”

“Why would you send me an invitation?” Sheldon asks instead, lip curling, and Wil takes a deliberate step closer, so that they’re practically toe-to-toe.

“Why would you accept?” Wil asks.

“I don’t—what are you doing?” he snaps, because Wil’s hand is now resting on Sheldon’s hip, and he doesn’t appear at all inclined to remove it.

“What would you do if I kissed you right now?” Wil asks, and Sheldon twitches.

“What? I’d leave,” he says. “I’d have to brush my teeth, I’d call Leonard, I’d—”

Wil kisses him.

Sheldon stands frozen, and then, oh then?

Sheldon kisses him back. Hesitant and possibly terrified, Sheldon opens his mouth to Wil’s persistent tongue, hand resting slightly above Wil’s shirt as Wil does his best to maul him in return, fingers on bare skin, pulling Sheldon snug against his body.

And then Sheldon shoves him off, half-stumbling backwards as he wipes his mouth with his sleeve (the terrible hygienic conduct is excusable given that _Wil Wheaton’s tongue_ was just in his _mouth_ ).

“What—” he says, except his eyes are wide and his mind has clearly not caught up with his brain. “Why—?”

“Leave, yes, I can see that,” Wil says, licking his lips thoughtfully and already moving closer to Sheldon. Sheldon, who is a twitching mess of too much information.

“Why would you do that?” Sheldon spits out finally. Wil keeps moving closer, eyes pinned to Sheldon’s lips. Sheldon’s tongue betrays him, darting out to lick them.

“Even Spock has sex every seven years,” Wil whispers.

“Pon Farr is a biological imperative—he loses all rationality and—”

“Haven’t you ever wanted to lose all rationality, Sheldon?”

“ _Humans_ do not engage in Pon Farr, and given our respective genders there is no latent biological imperative that—”

“You talk too much,” Wil says, his hand finding bare skin underneath the side of Sheldon’s shirt. Sheldon physically flinches, and Wil lifts a mock-worried eyebrow. “Are my hands cold?”

“I know you, Wil Wheaton,” Sheldon says, his voice ragged, “You’re up to something that is undoubtedly evil and/or sinister.”

“Maybe I just want in your pants,” Wil smirks, and then he’s kissing Sheldon again, and Sheldon once more melts into him, fingers darting underneath clothing until he pulls away, half-tripping into the living room.

“I don’t do this,” Sheldon says, breath struggling into his lungs, eyes wide as Wil slowly, inexorably comes closer. “What are you doing to me?” he asks, unable to tear his eyes away from Wil.

“I’m going to kiss you again,” Wil warns.

“Okay,” Sheldon says, and then they’re kissing again, and this time Sheldon’s fingers are draped around Wil’s hips as Wil nips his bottom lip and slides his tongue along Sheldon’s.

With clear effort Sheldon steps backwards, almost shaking.

“I might be ill-versed in human emotion,” Sheldon says, “But I understand that you’re trying to…to seduce me or-or _use_ me in some fashion, I just…I don’t—”

“Maybe I am,” Wil says, his fingers still on Sheldon’s hip, “Maybe you think it’s worth it.”

“You aren’t making sense,” Sheldon spits, as if it’s an insult, as if Wil _cares_. Wil, however, is much more focused on walking Sheldon backwards.

With a well-placed shove Wil pushes him down onto the couch, and then almost immediately sinks on top of him. Sheldon makes a noise in the back of his throat that might’ve been a protest, but then Wil’s lips are on his and Sheldon is making an entirely different noise.

Wil likes having the advantage, and now that Sheldon’s height is out of the equation he spares no time pulling Sheldon’s shirts over his head and then kissing his way down his neck.

Sheldon is quite obviously new to being ravished on a couch, but Wil is far too interested in getting Sheldon’s pants undone to pay any attention to that.

“I don’t—” Sheldon mewls, and Wil kisses him again to shut him up.

He slides his hands down Sheldon’s sides, relishing in the way Sheldon trembles underneath him, and then bites Sheldon’s neck _just so,_ letting his tongue flick out onto the sensitive flesh as Sheldon moans into his ear.

“You like being in control,” Sheldon pants, eyes narrowed as he takes in the way Wil is systematically destroying him.

“Maybe so,” Wil laughs, “But _I_ think…I think you like me beating you…I think you like _Wesley Crusher_ outsmarting you, one-upping you… _I bet you want Wesley to top you_ ,” Wil hisses, and Sheldon pants into his ear as Wil licks his way down Sheldon’s neck, as his hand rests on the front of Sheldon’s half-undone, suddenly snug pants. He shoves the pants down, and Sheldon _oh-so-helpfully_ lifts his hips to ease their passage. One more layer of cloth and then Wil’s hand curls around him, warm and snug and sure.

“Why’re you doing this?” Sheldon asks, blue eyes wide and confused and full of something like fear, and Wil looks away, kissing down his neck.

He tilts his head until his mouth grazes Sheldon’s ear, “Do you want me to stop?” he breathes, and Sheldon shudders underneath him, hips bucking up as his fingers dig into the couch cushions underneath them, and he closes his eyes, mute. “I want to hear you say it,” Wil says, his hand stilling, and Sheldon’s teeth slide along his bottom lip.

“Don’t stop,” he says (begs), and Wil smiles, except he realizes belatedly he doesn’t feel smug, he feels… _he feels_ …

He starts kissing Sheldon again, because he’s not supposed to be feeling anything right now except amusement, but his jeans are snug and Sheldon’s hair is ridiculously soft between his fingers, and Sheldon’s hands are resting lightly on Wil's hips as he works Sheldon, bringing him shuddering to the edge.

“I—” Sheldon pants, and then he’s biting his lip as his head jerks back, trembling in Wil’s capable hands.

Wil kisses Sheldon as he sits, shuddering. He almost feels guilty, but the sight of Sheldon, messy and in pieces is just too gorgeous to regret. His cheeks are pink from Wil’s stubble, and his hair disheveled from Wil’s fingers, and his eyes still have that _just fucked_ shine.

“By the way,” Wil says. “This isn’t my house, I’m just house-sitting.”

And with one more kiss, he stands up, adjusting his jeans around his uncomfortable hard-on and taking in the image of one Sheldon Cooper, PhD.

“Until next time, Dr. Cooper,” he smirks. Sheldon blinks heavy eyelids and frowns up at him, and Wil turns on his heel and walks out the door.

 

./.

 

“Sheldon?” Penny calls, hesitant as she stands in the entryway of the house. “Sheldon, I saw Wil leave about half an hour ago, is everything okay?”

With only silence to answer her, she pushes all images of Sheldon lying dead on the ground (Wil is clearly not some axe murderer, right?) and walks farther into the house.

Down the hallway, she can hear running water, so she walks closer. “Sheldon?” she calls again, and this time the door opens.

“I’m right here, Penny,” Sheldon says, except he sounds almost subdued.

“Are you okay?” she asks, squinting to try to see him in the shadows.

“I’m fine, Penny,” he says. “Let me just dry my hands.”

She waits, and when he is finished and comes closer, she sees the way his clothing isn’t quite sitting correctly, and the damp patches on his pants where he clearly tried to hand wash them clean, and the stubble-burn, and the way his fingers are trembling slightly.

“ _Oh,_ ” she says, almost shocked, and then grabs him in a hug as he stands there stiffly. “Oh _honey,_ I shouldn’t have let you come in by yourself!”

He pats her back almost delicately. “I’m fine, Penny,” he says. “And besides, the experience was…illuminating.”

“Illuminating?” she repeats, half-choking on the word, and Sheldon’s fingers drift almost subconsciously to his lips.

He whispers something that sounds suspiciously like, _”A worthy adversary,”_ and then turns to Penny. “Shall we go?”

 

  
_...Finis..._   



End file.
